


The Oedo Culinary Academy Project

by deargodwhatisthatthing, Ki_no_Shirayuki



Series: 摺箔 — Surihaku [21]
Category: Gintama, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Age Changes, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Chefs, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Arguing, Backstory, Bickering, Celebrities, Character Study, Cooking, Cooking Lessons, Drama, Embedded Images, Facebook, Family Drama, Fluff, Food, Friendship, Gen, Heartwarming, Humor, Minor Violence, Moral Lessons, No Romance, Oh look at all these AU tags, Puns & Word Play, Racism, Recipes, Restaurants, Rivalry, Senpai-Kouhai Relationship, Teacher-Student Relationship, Television, Television Watching, WTF, Xenophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-09-20 08:04:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9482090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deargodwhatisthatthing/pseuds/deargodwhatisthatthing, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ki_no_Shirayuki/pseuds/Ki_no_Shirayuki
Summary: Join the Gintama cast on their adventures of wonderful flavors, valuable life lessons and flat-out WTF.Alternate chapters by DearGod and Shirayuki.Comes with images and recipes.





	1. 傲岸不遜 (Gōganfuson) —  Arrogance

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [I Wish This Year to be Full of Laughter](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8852095) by [Ki_no_Shirayuki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ki_no_Shirayuki/pseuds/Ki_no_Shirayuki). 



> So... we were discussing the notion of a Gintama AU where the characters we know and love were students in a chef school... and this is my offering!  
> \- Deargodwhatis thatthing

**  It's not always the cost of the ingredients that count **

by Deargodwhatisthatthing

“That guy is so fucking annoying.”

When Takasugi was grinding his teeth, it was more than merely audible; it was _tangible_. It made the bench vibrate. Katsura wedged his knee under the desktop and bent low over his cooking, using a dropper to transfer syrup into his dish as per his impeccably neat notes. “Hmm,” he said, absently. 

“I mean, look at him, the curly bastard. He’s yawning openly.”

“Uh huh.”

“How does he do it? How does he get by in this class? He’s not even paying attention to Sensei _in the middle of the class_.”

Katsura glanced sidelong at his benchmate, before sighing and turning back to the page. “You mean, he’s talking and looking round the room when he should be cooking or taking notes?”

“ _No_.” Takasugi gave him a shove, which sent a spurt of syrup across the room. “I mean, he’s barely present at all. Look at him, he’s laid his head in his presentation dish! I think he’s actually fallen asleep!”

Katsura sighed and began to stir his chestnut paste. “If I’d known he was going to make you cry like this, frankly I would have sat somewhere else.”

“It’s just infuriating! That slacker can’t be any good.”

Katsura sat back. “You know,” he said, thoughtfully, “I hear that this is his third successive year taking this class. He fails on purpose every year.

“On purpose?”

“That’s what I heard. He aces the practical exam and then just flunks the theory, doesn’t even try - apparently, last year, he spent the first 30 minutes of the test writing out the lyrics to Chitty Chitty Bang Bang and then fell asleep for the rest of the exam. Then he immediately reenrols for the next year.” Katsura gazed out reflectively across the lecture hall. “It’s like he just takes this class to be around Shouyou Sensei.”

Takasugi watched as Shouyou wandered through the group, tasting here and there, advising on technique and timing; a girl blushed furiously as he nodded, smiling, and then she gazed wistfully at his back as he moved to the next table. “I think a lot of people just take the class because of Shouyou.” _Including you,_ whispered a treacherous voice in his head, and he turned back to his work, scowling. It was true, though. His father, Takasugi Kochouta, had been horrified when he’d signed up for Shouyou’s notorious class – “a blight on an otherwise prestigious school”, he’d called it. He only wanted his son to _graduate_ from this prestigious school to aid the reputation of their family’s elite restaurant brand; he didn’t actually want him to _cook_.  And Shinsuke had always just scowled his way through his classes, without once thinking of actual food.  And then Shouyou had come along…

The first day of class reeled up in his mind: Shouyou’s warm eyes roving over them, as though this group of breathless wannabes and overconfident boasters were just about the best present he’d ever been given. “In this class, I want your mistakes, your ambitious failures, your woeful errors. It is through the blend of all these mishaps that you develop the unique flavour of your own success. Cooking is about influences; it’s about what you bring with you and how you convert your feeling to food. A strange alchemy, perhaps…. but you all bring something different to this class - I could give you all the same recipe but each one of you can and should produce something different, unique.” He had sighed then, the satisfied exhalation of someone who knows from the smell that something marvellous is cooking. “I cannot wait to see what each of you will bring to the table.” Takasugi had had a sudden desire not to disappoint him.

Katsura began filling a piping bag. “They say he found Gintoki in a dumpster, making food edible with… whatever he could find. That’s why he’s so good. He doesn’t discount anything, he’ll consider any option. They say that what he served up was the best thing Shouyou had ever tasted.”

Beginning to fill his own piping bag, Takasugi felt the beginnings of a grudging respect for Gintoki rising in him, and pushed it down immediately.  “Alternatively, a grubby little orphan served him dumpster food and he was super nice about it.” 

Both of them jumped as a perfectly formed Mont Blanc was slammed down on the bench and they looked up into Gintoki’s bored red eyes. He grinned. 

“You’re probably right, that story doesn’t quite ring true, does it?” He scratched his jaw. “More likely he bet me he could make the best strawberry parfait this side of Hokkaido and I followed him all the way here.

“It _is_ true, though, that I’ll use almost anything in my cooking – _almost_ anything.” Suddenly the grin was gone and Gintoki’s face was oppressively close to Takasugi’s. “ _Money’s_ the one ingredient that ruins everything.” His voice sank to a whisper, and Takasugi wanted to draw back. The red eyes glinted. “Add money to anything, and it can’t help but turn out...  _bitter_.” 

He held Takasugi’s gaze for a little too long, then grinned abruptly and spun around, loping off jauntily. “Laters!”

They sat in stunned for a few moments, then Takasugi reached out and dipped a spoon in Gintoki’s Mont Blanc. After a hesitant second, he put it in his mouth. 

It was perfect. Sublime, even. Takasugi scowled.

“That guy is so fucking annoying.”


	2. 一心不乱 (Isshinfuran) — Concentration

**Whatever You Do, Pay Utmost Attention and Be Intensely Concentrated**  
by Ki no Shirayuki

   

   _(Image credit: Zing News)_

Everyone knew better than to waste time trying to communicate with Katsura Kotarou when he was focused on a task — _any_ task at all — as possibly even the entire school building's collapsing and being set on fire during an earthquake wouldn't rouse him out of his at times frightening concentration. It was that kind of focus along with his serious attitude and natural talent that landed him a scholarship at the prestigious Oedo Culinary Academy in the first place. It was as though Katsura's world narrowed down to the pastel pink pastry held firmly in his left hand as the slip of wood in his right made incisions in the dough, transforming the once featureless ball into a beautiful chrysanthemum. Every move of his hand was quick yet precise, skillful, fluid and immensely pleasing to watch — quite exceptional for a first-year student — and the _wagashi_ was nearly finished. If only he would look up and see the look of growing satisfaction upon his instructor Yoshida Shouyou's face. Only one more petal to go, then he could add a yellow center to the flower and _celebrate_ , for that would mean he finally succeeded after possibly a dozen failed attempts at creating the Japanese pastry that day, and then his teacher would give him that trademark warm smile of his and congratulate him, and everything would be _awesome_.

Until…

"Hey Zura."

Sakata Gintoki might be his best friend, but sometimes Katsura found it unable to stand his habit of interrupting him mid-task. But it was not the questions Gintoki always bombarded him with — how to peel this vegetable, is this slice of meat thin enough, how on earth can anyone eat tempura without red bean paste, etc — that bothered him, he never minded questions anyway; it was the fact that Gintoki never bothered to get his name right that got on his nerves. "It's not Zura, it's Katsura!" he instantly shot Gintoki a death glare and went back to his work right before his expression turned to absolute shock and horror while Shouyou's pleasant smile vanished.

I wish I could say that in the moment of annoyance, Katsura made a mistake like slightly scraping the dough instead of making a clean incision or making it a bit too shallow or too deep like he did his previous failed pastries. No, this time he went just that little bit overboard and _cut the pastry in half_ instead.

Then the bell rung and Shouyou announced that it was time for the class to wrap up and go home, while Katsura stared at the disaster in his hand as he wished he could take the slip of wood he used to make the _wagashi_ and stab Gintoki in the eye with it.

* * *

"What a fucking jerk, that silver-perm bastard!" Katsura slammed his then empty ramen bowl against the table so hard he nearly shattered it, while the noodle shop owner Ikumatsu, an Oedo Academy graduate, struggled visibly to hide her laughter upon seeing his previous meltdown. "Stop it senpai, it's not funny!"

"Why not?" she said, "I mean, it's all just because your friend calls you by a name you don't like?"

"What's so funny about it? He knows full well it pisses me off, yet he keeps doing it anyway!" Katsura spat before he felt Ikumatsu's hand warm over his own, that familiar, motherly look in her eyes that always melted him like butter no matter how frustrated or angry he was.

"Katsura, look." she said, "Has it ever occurred to you that maybe the problem isn't with Gintoki, but it is with _you_? I know it's not nice of him to constantly bug you — hell, I have a bunch of people constantly bugging me too — but work is work. If you truly love what you do and are passionate about it, don't let your annoyance interfere with it. Every day there are people coming into my shop saying, 'poor woman, graduating from such a prestigious culinary school and then running this little shop in the middle of nowhere.' It pisses me off as hell, but since I'm dead set on my goal of perfecting the art of ramen-making and turn this little shop into a well-known one throughout Japan — now, what's so funny about it?" she chuckled noticing Katsura crack up, "I learned not to let their words bother me when I get down to work. And look at you, losing it over your name's being called wrong! You do need to concentrate more." at this, Katsura couldn't help but feel somewhat hurt, "Remember, the key is _concentration_ and _devotion_."

"Senpai…" Katsura was at a loss for words.

"Just make a perfect chrysanthemum pastry first, then you can give Gintoki his just desserts afterwards." Ikumatsu continued, laughing, "I believe you can do it. I've graduated for years and still have yet to achieve my dream, while you pretty much have your entire future laid out before you even in your first year! Come on, promise me you won't let me down."

" _I promise_." Katsura said, determined, as he stood up from his seat and began to make his way for the door until Ikumatsu promptly cleared her throat.

"Ahem, forgot something?"

 _Damn._ Katsura thought, fishing around his coat pocket for his wallet.

* * *

"Not Zura, it's…"

"Ah ah ah, 50 yens please." said Takasugi, smirking, as he held out his hand for Katsura to drop a coin into his palm.

Damn it… Katsura would soon go bankrupt at this rate. And it had only been two days since he put his Concentration Operation into motion by allowing Gintoki and Takasugi to take from him a 50 yen coin every time he corrected their use of his name, and given how frequent he did it… He could do nothing but watch as his friends feast on _his_ money. _If only he had that slip of wood in his hands right now…_

"What are you looking so mad about, Zura? I said you should pay attention to your blood sugar levels. Do you want me to treat you to ice-cream after school, Zura? Hey, why aren't you answering me?"

_"Come on, promise me you won't let me down."_

"Be quiet and get back to work, Gintoki. Stop pouring sauce onto your hand." Katsura replied, much to Gintoki's surprise.

* * *

It seemed as though Shouyou didn't notice, or chose not to notice, how absolutely red Katsura's face had become. He was too stunned by Katsura's suddenly unusually exceptional skills to mind. Normally he was already skillful enough, but never before had Shouyou seen anyone work that slip of wood at such a devastating speed — he had given up following the movements of Katsura's hand out of dizziness —while still managing to keep each and every petal of the chrysanthemum precisely the same width. Four… Three… Two petals left… Katsura's face grew even redder and redder, as though it was about to explode any minute, and before Shouyou knew it, a perfect chrysanthemum _namagashi_ of a lovely pastel pink adorned with a yellow center placed upon a square lacquered dish, a pastry fit for tea ceremonies, was laid out before his eyes. He had to take a while to regain his composure before examining the pastry, carefully slicing it with a sliver of wood and finally having a taste…

"Kotarou…"

"Yes, chef."

"This pastry is _perfect_."

At that, Katsura simply sighed in response. No "Haha, great!" No "Finally, I've made it!" Not even a "Thank you, chef." Just a sigh of relief, now that it was all over, now that he had fulfilled his promise to Ikumatsu, now that…

"Wow, gotta say that was impressive there, Zura." Gintoki commented, face still as indifferent as ever.

Immediately, Katsura grabbed the partially-eaten _wagashi_ and slammed it against Gintoki's face, proudly declaring, "I'm not Zura, I'm Katsura!" while Shouyou buried his face in his palm chuckling.


	3. 精励恪勤 (Seireikakkin) — Diligence

**Sharpen your blade, sharpen your soul**

by Deargodwhatisthatthing

 

Gintoki laid his head on the table and groaned. “Oh my god, Zura, will you just cut the damn salmon? Entire schools of fish have been born and raised and slaughtered in the time it’s taken for you to sharpen that stupid knife.” 

“Not Zura, Katsura,” said Katsura absentmindedly, automatically reaching into his pocket for a coin. Autopilot was an important skill when teaming up for practicals, he’d realised, although it worked out to be expensive. “Gintoki, precision is important.  A well-sharpened knife is like a well-ordered mind – worth taking time over.”

“You are taking time _away from my life_.  Seriously, how old and leathery was this fish if it needs a knife that sharp?” Gintoki resisted the urge to pick his nose (not in the kitchen, even he had standards) and contented himself with unravelling threads from the ties of Katsura’s apron. “It must have been taking out its fucking pension.” He threw his head back and sagged dramatically over the back of his stool. “Uhhh, I don't even want to cook fish in the first place. I wanted to cook something sweet today! Shouyou, you have forsaken me!”  

Katsua held up the knife and examined the angle critically, before returning to the whetstone. “You want to cook something sweet everyday.  A chef should broaden his palate, you will corrupt your tastebuds if you constantly bombard them with processed nonsense.”

Gintoki snapped his head up belligerently.  “My tastebuds are fine. While you’re still puzzling out umami, my tastebuds can discern all kinds of differences: glucose, fructose, sucrose, lactose…”  He narrowed his eyes. “You’ve been doing that side forever – am I going to have to wait while you do the other side too? Why don't you run it through a knife grinder?”

Katsura tried not to grit his teeth too hard and ignored the twitch that had restarted in his eyebrow.  “I already did the other side – you didn’t notice because your head was too far up your ass. Besides, it's worth taking the time to sharpen knives properly. The sharpness of this knife is far superior.”

He lifted the knife again and let the light play down the bevelled edge. “When I was little, my grandmother would let me sharpen her other knives but never this, her yanagi-ba-bōchō. She said that when I could cut salmon so thin that I could read her hiragana through it, I would understand the importance of so fine a blade. Only then would I be allowed to sharpen it."  

Gintoki yawned theatrically from his prostration on the desk, although his eyes were oddly keen. “I guess you succeeded. Well done you.”

Katsura moved methodically, shifting the pressure to a push and a lift, trying to feel out the softer metal giving way to the harder core.  His voice lifted and fell quietly behind the quiet rhythmic _schuup_ of the knife against the stone.  “Actually, no. She passed before I could manage it.” He swapped to a finishing stone and continued, dogged, determined.  “But these are her knives and they must be sharpened. One day I’ll deserve them.”

Gintoki’s head swivelled on the desk, eying him openly now. Katsura emerged from his reverie, suddenly aware, and shifted uncomfortably in the sudden scrutiny. “In any case, I’m finished.” He held up the blade for Gintoki to see. “You see, only one side is bevelled, the other is concave.”

Gintoki sat up and took the knife. He turned it this way and that, reflectively, and Katsura caught a reflection of the red eyes for just a moment.

“Your granny sounds pretty sharp herself. I bet she’d be ok with how this turned out.” There was a brief silent moment when they both just looked literally anywhere but at each other, and then Gintoki threw the knife up in the air, catching it faux-casually by the handle as the first outraged squeak escaped Katsura’s throat. “Anyway, I just use whatever I find lying about.  I find that if I just pick up a random knife in the kitchen, it's always sharp. It’s strange, really, like they sharpen themselves.”

“Uh, Gintoki, you're just picking up other people's knives.   _Other people_ are sharpening those knives.” 

Gintoki bent over the bench and sliced an exquisitely thin wafer of salmon. “Ooh, nice! Actually, now you mention it, some of them do cut better than others.” Laying the yanagi on the workbench, he reached into his bag and drew out a knife, unwrapping it carelessly from inside an old sock. He held it up. “I've been using this awesome one lately, cuts like a bastard, I'm gonna keep hold of it for a while, I think. It's got this nice swirl motif on the handle..." He gazed at the knife in his hand for a moment. “It’s pretty much like your one, I guess.”

There was a brief silence.  All too brief, really.

* * *

Shouyou looked up from assessing Takasugi’s work to behold Katsura yelling “That _is_ mine, you thieving bastard!” while attempting to grind Gintoki’s forehead on his whetstone.

He sighed.

“Pastries, knives… I probably shouldn’t pair those two up too often.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to the long-suffering Yukiko for the lateness of this chapter - I am grateful for her vast patience :)
> 
> Full disclosure - I am definitely a Gintoki in the kitchen, I use one knife for everything. Educate me if I've erred anywhere here...


	4. 大声疾呼 (Taiseishikko) — Vociferate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place before Zura and Sugi enter the Academy. Not really an Aesop, but some backstory on Shinsuke in this AU. Comes with a ton of OCs (namely the Takasugi family). Also, Shinsuke is a teenager here (notice the AU Age Changes tag…).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Abusive behavior. Spoilers for Infant arc. Order of events is different from that of canon. Might be inaccurate.
> 
> Since this work is episodic, skipping this chapter will _not_ affect your overall experience of the fic.
> 
> In short, I'm terribly, _terribly_ sorry about this chapter and my English.

**A Cooking Student Shall Not Argue with the Chef Under _Any_ Circumstances**  
by Ki no Shirayuki

The high-end _washoku_ restaurant Kochō (Little Butterfly) owned by the Takasugi family was one of the most famous ones in all of Japan. Not as famous as those of the much-revered Shibō-Kōjin, Four Divine Chefs, but on its way there, and there was nothing that the restaurant's owner, Takasugi Kochouta, wouldn't do in order to achieve that goal.

The Kochō was well-known for its elegant kaiseki cuisine and that it had served from high-ranking corporate CEOs to pop idol Terakado Tsuu. Not that the restaurant wasn't busy normally, but every time an "honored guest" made an appearance, expect it to be utter _chaos_. Usually, Kochouta did not accept anything less than perfection, lest it "leaves a permanent mark on Kochō's reputation", but on such occasions, he was extra irritable, shouting at and berating staff members and even _family members_ who were expected to help out in the kitchen for the slightest perceived mistakes ("You call that pickled vegetables, I call it shriveled-up leaves dipped in rotten vinegar", "Is that how you make rice for your mother at home? Then I must say I truly feel sorry for her for having to taste this crap every day and having given birth to the crap that is you in the first place!", "If you have the guts to make such sashimi, I advise you to take your knife and stab yourself in the heart, because that's how painful your sorry dish is making me feel! Go and die for all I care!"). Shinsuke had to endure this kind of treatment from his father on a near regular basis, so it didn't come as much a surprise, but for his younger sisters who were normally doted on, this was _hellish_. Poor Mei, the youngest, was already sobbing uncontrollably in her older sister Sachi's arms, while Tomo, the second child, simply froze in place out of fear that comforting Mei would lead to even more cruel words from their father. Even his wife Meguri was visibly displeased with his behavior, but voicing it was tantamount to suicide. She simply gave him a warning glare, at which he promptly stopped and left the kitchen somewhat begrudgingly. Shinsuke looked at his father's retreating form, then at his terrified sisters and finally his mother, neither saying or attempting to do anything to alleviate the situation, simply standing there.

"You're no longer a baby, Mei. Stop crying and do us all a favor." said Meguri, "Shinsuke, Tomo, would you please stop standing there like dumb statues? You are not helping the case! Now, let's go and change into formal clothes. We will have to show up before our important guests soon, and we can't afford to make your father mad again."

* * *

Moments later, clad in their best kimono, the Takasugi family lined up before their honored guests — an ensemble of wealthy men and women who were members of a renowned and influential business corporation — in one of their exclusive dining rooms as Kochouta boasted about the restaurant's history and achievements and what-have-you with that huge grin plastered on his face, while his children tried to look as calm and composed as they could, which proved especially tricky for Mei who was hiding her red nose after her previous crying fit. Shinsuke simply looked disinterested and tried to block his father's rambling as well as the guests' occasional responses from his mind until, inevitably, the conversation was about him and his status of heir to the restaurant. All eyes were on Shinsuke now, and he received a pat on his shoulder that looked like a loving gesture to outsiders, but clearly felt like a _smile or else_ to him. He faked a stiff smile, after which Kochouta immediately removed his hand from Shinsuke's shoulder and carried on with the talking. Shinsuke glanced at Tomo, who was giving him a look that spoke of mild resentment. _She's always like this every time he brings up the inheritance bullshit_.

One of the guests, Mr. Hashida was his name, decided to bring his opinion to the table, "Your son seemed like a wonderful young man indeed. I don't think you can find a better heir than him."

"Why of course, he's been keenly interested in culinary arts from a young age."

 _No I fucking haven't,_ Shinsuke mentally corrected his father.

"I'm very glad to hear that, Takasugi-san. It is extremely important that your heir be _willing_ to take on the family profession." Mr. Hashida said, "I had to learn it the hard way when I tried to make my young grandson, the only offspring I have left, heir to the family corporation when he is neither old enough nor ready for such a huge responsibility, and my daughter-in-law called me out on it. It is great to have someone to pass on the family business, but the most important is that whether he is ready for, or _wants_ such a task, and parents shouldn't force it upon their children. I'm glad that this young man here has taken interest in the art of culinary, and I wish him the best of success."

Finally the lively conversation drew to a close, and one of the guests suggested everyone took a photo with the Takasugi family. They quickly arranged themselves, the honor of being in the middle went to Kochouta, his wife and children closely by his side. Meguri whispered into her son's ear before the camera flashed, "Smile for the picture."

Shinsuke gave the camera the best scowl he could muster.

* * *

"Dad." Shinsuke called his father's attention when all the guests as well as his mother and sisters had left the dining room, "What do you think of Hashida-san?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"I hope you don't get mad when I tell you this, but…" he took a deep breath, " _I don't want to run the restaurant._ "

Feeling Kochouta's steely glare upon him, Shinsuke quickly added, "Not that I don't like cooking, it's just that I don't think I'm suited to the position."

A moment of silence passed before Kochouta responded, "And why?"

"I don't know, I just happen not to be interested. I would much prefer to perhaps start my _own_ restaurant, for starters. You can let Tomo inherit Kochō. She would give _anything_ to be the next to run the restaurant."

"Make _her_ the heiress?" his father's eyes widened.

"Is her cooking skill not competitive enough?"

Kochouta shook his head.

"Is it because she's the second child?"

His father shook his head again.

"Or is it… because she's a girl?"

"She will soon be married off into another family anyway. She can't carry on the family business."

"Well, she may get married, but does that mean she can't return and run the restaurant and, you know, _have a job_? Besides, it's not that her cooking is not good enough, is it?"

"Miles better than yours." his father added.

"Then why not make _her_ the heiress? Can't you see she's way more hardworking and dedicated than I am, that she always gives her absolute best in the kitchen _only_ so that _you_ can see her being much more suited to the position than I am? Why am I the one seeing that and not you? Is it that…"

"Are you questioning my way, Shinsuke? When is it acceptable for children to disrespect their parents?" Kochouta finally snapped.

"I'm not disrespecting you as much as telling the truth that perhaps you don't _care_ about your children as much as you should." at this point, Shinsuke gave a bitter smile, "I supposed you heard what Hashida-san was saying: that what your _children_ want is more important than what you _think_ is good for them. You heard him, didn't you? Didn't you?"

"Should have known that Hashida bastard was a bad influence." Kochouta muttered.

"Oh, and you're not even thinking about what's good for me or my career in the culinary world." Shinsuke completely ignored his father, "You only think about what's good for your restaurant and your _reputation_! You never cared about me, or Tomo, or any of us for that matter! You only care about _yourself_. Yourself, and this _shitty_ restaurant. And…"

Shinsuke didn't finish, because right then he was taken by a harsh blow to his face that got him groaning out loud. There would _definitely_ be a bruise on his cheek the following day, and he also felt warm liquid trickling down from his nostril and then dropping from his chin, staining his indigo kimono with dark blotches.

His father had always been harsh, but it was the first time he resorted to violence.

"You insolent, intolerable brat!" Kochouta shouted, "I did not raise you to become this _monster_ of a son. I am very disappointed in you, Takasugi Shinsuke. I would rather not have a son than have him disrespect his parent like this. Get out of here, out of my sight. I don't want to see your face any longer."

They heard the sound of footsteps rushing closer before the _shōji_ door was abruptly slid open, revealing Mei standing there, eyes widening in shock and anger, taking in the horrendous sight before her.

"Dad!" she screamed, "Why did you hit _aniki_? You must apologize to him, Dad! Apologize to him! Now!"

"Mei." Shinsuke gritted through clenched teeth as he grabbed his bleeding nose, " _Get out_."

"I won't get out until Dad apologizes to _aniki_."

Shinsuke was about to warn her further when Tomo came along dragging a kicking and screaming Mei away. The former then returned, leaning against the door, a little smirk forming on her lips.

Shinsuke decided to excuse himself from the room, but not before catching Tomo's whispering to him as he moved past her, "Serves you right." she chuckled, " _Fucker._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though I have yet to write them in the canon verse (and I don't think I would, really), all other members of the Takasugi family are based on those of Takasugi Shinsaku: Kochōta 小蝶太 is based on Shinsaku's father Kochūta 小忠太, Meguri 巡 his mother Michi 道, and Tomo 智, Sachi 幸 and Mei 明 his sisters Take 武, Hae 栄 and Mitsu 光 (yes, I thought it was "Hikari" too. Also, these one-kanji-named people…) respectively.
> 
> Headcanon cast:  
> Kochōta: 大塚明夫 — Ōtsuka Akio I know he also voices another Gintama character, but I think his "old man" voice perfect for this role  
> Meguri: 篠原恵美 — Shinohara Emi  
> Tomo: 石川由依 — Ishikawa Yui funny how another character she voices would do anything for her brother, while this one hates him like hell  
> Sachi: 大谷育江 — Ōtani Ikue Sachi will appear and get a speaking role later in the fic  
> Mei: 沢城みゆき — Sawashiro Miyuki heyyy, voicing more than one character in the same series is perfectly normal, right?
> 
> Shibō-Kōjin 四宝荒神 is how the Four Devas are called in this AU. It's from the god Sanbō-Kōjin 三宝荒神 in Shinto mythology, who is worshipped as a god of the kitchen and fire. _Shibō_ is also homophonous with 死亡, "death", which is what many chefs in this AU fear would happen to them if they fail to please the four.


	5. 合縁奇縁 (Aienkien) — Odd Couple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By DearGodWhatIsThatThing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluffy hijinks!

###  ** Relationships between flavours are not easily understood **

by Deargodwhatisthatthing

Gintoki sat up and blinked a couple of times.  “Zura, where the hell is our duck?”

Katsura sat very still – unnaturally so. With one hand, he adjusted the angle of the chopping board in front of him and gazed into the middle distance.  When it became apparent that Gintoki was still waiting for an answer, he cleared his throat. “She escaped.  She overpowered me.”

"What the fuck are you talking about?  A duck is a foot high and made of feathers. It is literally all feathers and a comedy rubber beak. Whereas you are a mostly grown human with a very serious knife.”

“She just… got away.” Katsura tipped up his chin stubbornly. 

Gintoki goggled at him. They had been rasing that damn duck for weeks to foster what Shouyou termed “respect for culinary provenance”.  He had shovelled actual duck shit with his actual hands. Now, Gintoki could well understand laziness and ineptitude in himself and others like him – you know, you meant to do something, you put in a minimum of effort, it all went tits-up, you called it good and scraped by on what you could pull together at the last minute.  But that wasn’t what he expected from Katsura.  Katsura was the king of preparation, the master of organisation. Katsura kept a list of his lists, for god’s sake. “Do you have any idea what Shouyou is going to do to us when he realises we’ve turned up without the damn duck?”

Katsura inspected his nails and sniffed. “He might mark us down, yes.”

“Oh, I’ll say he’ll mark us down. I think he’s going to mark us down _into the ground_.”  Gintoki took a long deep breath to compose himself, visualised his happy place and spent a few pleasant seconds there with his elbow pressed intothe back of stupid Zura’s stupid neck, flattening his stupid face into the workbench. “I’m not taking the blame for this one,” he hissed into Zura’s ear as he watched their tutor approaching.  “If Shouyou wants a dumb animal’s cold dead corpse, he can have yours.”

***

To his credit, Katsura didn’t shrink from the responsibility.  He took the full burden of guilt regarding their lamentable lack of duck and accepted his dressing-down with a remarkable stoicism that impressed even his laconic benchmate.  There was integrity in that slight figure; a quiet dignity in his expression that was reflected in the warm compassion in Shouyou’s face.

It took Katsura three hours to clean everyone’s workstations.  

When he arrived back at the dorm room he shared with Takasugi, Gintoki had just climbed through the window and was lounging on Shinsuke’s bed; it appeared he had just finished eating something large and made with the flakiest of pastry.  He made a special effort to brush all the crumbs carefully under the duvet and shook his head in disbelief as Katsura sank down onto his own bed, exhausted. “How the hell did we end up as tech partners _again_?  Either this is some terrible planning on Shouyou’s part or he is more of a sadist than I gave him credit for.”

Katsura laid his head against the wall and sagged a little.  “What are you doing here, Gintoki?”

Gintoki picked his teeth and inspected the results. “Wouldn’t you be here if Sakamoto was your roommate?” He narrowed his eyes again. “What really happened to that duck?”

Katsura hesitated a moment, then opened his mouth… and there was a quack.  It was a contented sort of sound, the sort of serene and complacent noise an animal might make when thoroughly comfortable and definitely, _significantly_ , not cooked.

Katsura’s big brown eyes gazed fervently into his and in that instant, Gintoki knew exactly what had happened that morning. He felt as if he might have to work his way up to looking under the bed, however, so they both sat and looked at each other for a full minute, before he leaned down and peered into the darkness under Takasugi’s mattress. 

Huddled snugly in a nest of spare clothes, the duck eyeballed him, communicating with a baleful stare that Gintoki was by far the least satisfactory addition to its new abode.  Gintoki drew back and glared at Katsura. “Dammit Zura! I knew I should have been the one to slaughter it.” He paused for a second. “Cull it…  Butcher it? Is it called butchery if it’s a duck?”

“It’s called murder,” said Katsura, coldly. “Look, I just couldn’t, Gintoki.  She just looked at me and… her eyes spoke to me.  Elizabeth has a noble soul-”

“Oh Christ, he gave it a name.”  He took another quick look under the bed.  The duck quacked again and tucked its beak into its feathers.  Gintoki picked his nose reflectively.  “Why isn’t it under your bed?”

“Don’t be silly, Gintoki.  The paddling pool’s under my bed.”

*

Gintoki found himself helping.  He wasn’t really sure how it had happened. It was partly just to find out what Takasugi would say when he eventually, inevitably, _hilariously_ discovered that his roommate had been secreting ducks under his bed.  But there was also just something about Katsura and that earnest, searching way he looked at you – the most ridiculous nonsense would be tumbling out out of his mouth and you would be absently mulling over the right angle to slap him to get the most satisfying sound… and then you’d find yourself looking up the best food for ducks or making little nests out of Takasugi’s pyjamas, telling yourself you were only going to help out with this one last thing, that you were only helping _ironically_ , that you didn’t really care.  Because he really, _really_ didn’t care.  It was just… you know. He'd never really met anyone who cared like Zura did.  It was catching.  

But yeah, it was mostly to see what Takasugi would say. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah! It's a bit of an abrupt end, but I've been snowed under and just wanted to actually produce something so that Yukiko could have her turn:) Somehow I don't think Takasugi's the sort to go grubbing around under the bed, so Elisabeth might remain a secret for a while...


	6. 一笑千金 (Isshōsenkin) — A Glorious Smile

**Popularity Does Not Equal Quality**  
by Ki no Shirayuki

"Man, when is this stupid show gonna end? I need to check out the weather forecast; what if it's gonna rain tomorrow or something?" whined Gintoki, shoving yet another handful of caramel popcorn into his mouth. Some of the kernels ended up on the floor, which set Katsura's eyelid twitching — he had just cleaned up their dorm room, and he had more than once lectured Gintoki about the necessity of broadening his palate if he were to ever become a chef. Katsura had lost count of the number of times he wondered to himself just _why_ he became this person's friend in the first place. Takasugi advised him to stop wasting his breath on "that albino asshole" and carry on with his own life (as if he was not already wasting even _more_ breath than Katsura was bickering with Gintoki on a daily basis, causing the usually gentle Shouyou to almost kick them out of the kitchen on one occasion), but he couldn't bring himself to. Sometimes people didn't need any particular reason to become or stay friends, they just _did_.

"The show has barely even _begun_. Nobody's forcing you to watch it, Gintoki." Takasugi said, "I'd greatly appreciate it if you just shut your fucking mouth and do whatever you please rather than sit here and bug the hell out of us." he continued, "Or are you _that_ desperate to ogle the weather reporter?" At that, Gintoki immediately scooped up a handful of popcorn and threw it at Takasugi before he retaliated by grabbing a pillow and tried to whack Gintoki with all his might but missed and hit the box of popcorn instead, sending a barrage of fluffy caramel-covered kernels across the floor.

"That. Is. It!" this was apparently the breaking point for Katsura, " You two are not going to sleep until you wiped the floor completely clean, and by completely clean, I mean absolutely no trace of popcorn, caramel, dust or _anything_ on the floor. Now sit down and shut up, let's watch the show."

 _You are the one who needs to shut up_ , thought Gintoki, but decided not to say it out loud. Instead, he rolled his eyes at his friends who had completely ignored him in favor of the cooking TV show hosted by the celebrity chef and homemaker Kurihara Harumi. The special guest for that episode was no one other than pop diva Terakado Tsuu. Katsura and Takasugi didn't deem idols' appearing in cooking shows inherently bad; they really enjoyed that show where famous anime voice actors got together and prepared meals. The difference was that the voice actors, while humorous and making mistakes, actually took cooking _seriously_ and tried their best to make food as good as they could. Miss Otsuu on the other hand…

"What was Kurihara-san thinking, inviting _her_ of all people on the show?" Katsura commented, "Terakado-san can't cook at all and doesn't even bother to make an effort! Look at her! That's the _fifth_ time she dropped the spatula!"

"Actually, it's the _seventh_ time." Takasugi corrected.

"Shorty, you really are the worst _tsukkomi_ to ever exist." Gintoki finally gave his two cents of thought on the matter, "Look, this is how the showbiz works. Talents, qualifications and all that shit is useless. What really matters is looking and acting cute enough." he noticed Katsura's cringing and Takasugi's facepalming when they see Otsuu messed up a perfectly simple process yet again — namely, removing vegetables from the water they were sitting in — and gave the camera that angelic smile and giggle even though she just made a huge idiot out of herself (the upside to this was that it turned out Ms. Kurihara made a perfect _tsukkomi_ and that all her correcting the ditzy pop star essentially saved the episode. Maybe she should audition for a _manzai_ act), "That's what the audience wants. Not boring culinary details, but a cute smile from a cute girl. You know what they say: _isshōsenkin_ — a woman's gorgeous smile is worth a thousand pieces of gold."

"I don't think so, Gintoki." Katsura replied, trying not to burst out laughing seeing Ms. Kurihara finally at her limit and whacked Otsuu's buttocks with a rolling pin, "It may keep the audience entertained for a while, but they are not stupid. No matter how you look at it, a show must have genuine quality if you want a loyal fanbase. Relying on pandering to the base would do no good in the long term; in fact, shows that pander the most are often the worst ones, bashed by critics and viewers alike." he then looked straight into Gintoki's eyes, "Good looks will get you nowhere as a chef. You must, above all, have _cooking skills_. If we go by your logic, you would have never been accepted into this academy in the first place." Gintoki was visibly annoyed. Katsura stood up from his place, took the remote and turned off the TV, "Now you two, get to work and clean the floor. Remember what I said: no clean, no sleep. Get going."

"Yes, Mom." Gintoki groaned as he and Takasugi searched for the vacuum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special acknowledgements to Kurihara Harumi-san who is an actual TV personality in Japan specializing in home cooking.


	7. 狷介固陋 (Kenkaikorō) — Narrow-mindedness

**Everyone is flawed, but some are just plain assholes.**  
by Ki no Shirayuki

**Easy Authentic _Chazuke_**

Ingredients:

  * _Katsuobushi_ — 14g
  * Water — 40cc
  * Salt — 1 tablespoonful
  * _Dashi_ powder — 2 tablespoonfuls
  * Cooked rice — 1 bowl



Instructions:

  1. Boil water in a small pot.
  2. Then add the _katsuobushi_ and turn the heat from low to medium and cook for 3 minutes.
  3. Meanwhile, place kitchen towel over a bowl.
  4. Filter the _dashi_ stock.
  5. Return the filtered stock in step 4 into the pot and cook over low heat, adding salt and _dashi_ powder.
  6. Pour the soup over rice and serve.



  
"The fuck is this? Red bean paste? You must be seriously out of your mind."

"No, I'm not out of my mind, I just want a decent afternoon snack and this is how I make it."

"No, seriously, Gintoki, even a baby knows better than to chuck red bean paste into _chazuke._ Wait, I refuse to call that thing you're scarfing down _chazuke;_ it's more like _**kuso** zuke._ Look at it, muddy and icky and…"

"Look, Zura, this is my afternoon snack; I eat my afternoon snack and you eat yours. All this arguing is making my _chazuke_ cold, so let's make it clear: Tell me how to eat my food again and your afternoon snack will be my fist. Understand?"

This was not the first time Gintoki was bugged about his food; Katsura had criticised him for making miso soup without _dashi_ until said soup became utterly cold and unedible by the time he finished. They might be students of a culinary academy, but Gintoki saw no need to get his panties in a knot over afternoon snacks. Hell, even the head of Tsuji Culinary Institute had clear distinctions between formal and informal eating. Even Takasugi who had worked at a fucking kaiseki restaurant didn't bother him about his food (not that he didn't about other things…). Even Shouyou who had worked at many kaiseki restaurants merely laughed at the idea that someone could eat sashimi with chili sauce. Katsura was easily the one taking cooking the most seriously in the whole of the academy, and it went beyond just plain being uptight and crossed into outright bigotry that turned him into the primary target of the student council, or the Shinsengumi 新鮮組 — Fresh Brigade — as they called themselves.

Nobody could forget that infamous part-essay, part-rant Katsura posted on his Facebook in which he essentially told foreigners to stop eating Japanese food after witnessing an European student using chopsticks to eat an onigiri. Of course, this did not go well with non-Japanese people studying at the school. "This is horrible" one comment on the Facebook post read, "It reminded me of the discrimination I face everyday as a foreigner in Japan." "This is the 21st century, how can blatant xenophobia like this still be acceptable?" another comment read. A large number of commenters called for Katsura to be expelled. Eventually, news reached Principal Tokugawa and Katsura was suspended. The foreign students rejoiced and the whole thing was swept under the rug, but clearly there is no way Katsura was going to let this go anytime soon.

"You can bug the shit out of me over my snack as much as you want, but write a rant on why white-haired dudes shouldn't eat chazuke and you're in deep shit." Gintoki said, slurping his bowl clean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original recipe found [here](https://cookpad.com/recipe/4579104)


End file.
